Shredding Layers
by cheshirexpirate
Summary: Barbossa finally has the Pearl!...but Jack has the map. After several attempts to retrieve said object, Hector is left needing, dare he say it, help. To get that help, however, he'll have to cope with someone as stubborn and guarded as himself.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own "Pirates of the Caribbean". If I did, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction.

P.S: Sorry for the cheesy title. I honestly could not think of a better name for this...

Chapter One

It was embarrassing. Asking for help? What sort of a captain does that? Never mind captain; what kind of pirate does that? Apparently, Hector Barbossa. He certainly wasn't happy about it. He wouldn't be asking for it if it was his choice. Of course, the key word would be "if". It turns out that Jack Sparrow was not as much of an idiot as he had always come off as after all. He had alluded his enemy for almost three months now. Barbossa had nearly caught him on several occasions, but it was becoming clear that he was going to need assistance if he truly intended to find Jack and the map. And he did.

"Where's this bloke, then, Cap'n?" Pintel asked.

Hector decided that he would take this opportunity to ignore one of the many morons that surrounded him. Not that he didn't normally do that.

"Cap'n?"

Although sometimes, they were annoying enough to prompt an answer.

"Do you think I know, Master Pintel?" he replied sarcastically.

"Maybe," Pintel said, in a manner similar to a stubborn but intimidated child.

"You'd be both wrong and right there. I've never seen him," Barbossa stated, straightening.

Pintel scratched his head in confusion. As was typical, an eye roll came his way from the other man.

Hector's eyes scanned the crowd that stuffed the Faithful Bride tavern. He had been given directions about what to look for. He needed to find a red tricorn hat with a white feather. To make it more specific, there would be a large pin of lapis on the hat. They had already been standing there for about thirty minutes. Was it a possibility that no one was coming? That they were in league with Sparrow and were simply setting him up to humiliate him in front of his crew? Most captains would never bother themselves with something as ridiculous as that, but this was Jack Sparrow. He, of all people, would go out of his way to harass Hector in this trivial manner. Then there it was: a red hat with a feather and pin.

All he did was move towards it and the wearer seemed to sense that he was there. The hat stopped in its adjacent path and started towards him. It moved with so much haste that, for a moment, Barbossa questioned his decision to seek help, imagining the kind of person it would take to outsmart Jack. Was it possible that there was someone as crazy as Jack, perhaps even...crazier... No, this wasn't that. And no one could be that-

"Captain Barbossa?"

The voice that spoke his name was female, deep, and wore a heavy French accent. This couldn't possibly be the person. It had nothing to do with her being French; it was the woman part that made no sense.

"Are you Captain Barbossa?" the woman persisted.

A good look at her showed that the female was more on the mature side of her middle age and dressed in tightly laced stays of an uncommonly pristine white, a rich blue chemise, and a grey skirt.

"Aye. Be there a reason for your inquiring?"

"Of course. You are seeking some help in a matter of importance, are you not?"

"Yes."

"And this matter involves a certain bird that cannot be caged?"

"Your point please, madame," Hector replied impatiently.

The woman frowned and gave him a frigid look.

"Certainly, _captain. _You are to follow me to the person who will help you," she said, moving past him and out of the door.

He followed swiftly behind, Pintel, Ragetti, Murtogg, and Mullroy in tow. The woman, quicker than Barbossa had expected her to be, was at least three feet ahead of him. Moving still faster, but continuing to abstain from sprinting, he caught up with her and barely broke even.

"Don't suppose you could slow down, madame? My crew's having trouble keeping up," Hector questioned.

"That is not my fault," she replied. "And I hope, for your sake, you are not as rude to my friend as you are to me."

With that, she moved ahead, leaving Barbossa a moment to think. She had given quite a threat. But if there was to be an attempt on his life, he could fend it off himself. He needn't be extremely careful of what he says. Just as long as he didn't give anything away about the true need to go after Sparrow.

He had the Pearl. Before, that was the only reason Hector would ever want to follow him. Not everyone knew this little piece of history, so there wouldn't be any questions. If, however, the subject came up, there would be no mention of Sao Feng's charts. No, Barbossa's charts. Sao was dead and Hector had obtained them. Jack had had nothing to do with it. Merely stealing them does not make them yours. They were given to Hector. Besides the charts, there would especially be no mention of what destination they held for him. The Fountain of Youth was to remain a secret, lest someone get it into their heads that double crossing him would be a good idea.

"We are here."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A wonder of a building stood before him. It was a mansion situated at the base of a sloping street. Though it seemed alone, it was far from it. Surrounded by taverns and pubs, the streets were clearer than most of Tortuga, but still swamped with citizens as any road in the town would be. The exterior was white with a gold roof and chestnut hued wood for window sills and the tall double doors. All of the edges of the building were lined with red. Large trees bent their branches to shade the premises, almost completely concealing the upper most windows.

As they moved closer to the house, the curtains of the highest far left window were suddenly drawn. A young girl emerged from behind them. The shift she was wearing was a rich cream, the sleeves pulled in at her wrists, the fabric billowing around her lower arms. The neckline was draped just over her shoulders and a layer of lace edged it. Binding her torso was a deep blue and gold brocade waist cincher. Her features were distinctly British in a very refined way. Large, faint hazel eyes were set in a heart shaped face and a slightly downturned nose completed the picture. Her black hair was messily pinned up in a large bun at the crown of her head. Despite that there was nothing particularly special about her appearance, she was pretty. Not incredibly beautiful or completely apart from any other woman on earth, but pretty. It was put into Barbossa's mind to think on why a young girl, who seemed to be of some means, would be perfectly calm inhabiting a room in Tortuga. Most women would feel uncomfortable with this, especially if they were from a wealthy family. True, as it was, that young maids would dream of being kidnapped by pirates and live a free and adventure filled life with their captor and hero, once they stepped foot in a pirates' hideaway, they were likely to change their minds immediately. It was just as well to Hector, as he wasn't one to surround himself with the faint of heart which, unfortunately, was most of the fairer sex.

As quickly as the curtains were drawn, so they were shut again.

"Go inside now! We do not want to attract too much attention," his guide spoke harshly.

He put the girl from his thoughts for now and made for the door. After all, he was going into the house that she was lodging in. Perhaps he would find some answers while he was seeking assistance for his Sparrow related troubles.

The woman, who had ushered in his entourage, had closed the door behind them and was now carefully locking it. When she finished with the several locks that adorned the inside of the portal, she turned and began to head up one of two stair cases, which Hector assumed he was also meant to ascend. However, as he made to follow her, his train behind him, she turned and stopped him.

"You are not to come up yet."

"Of course," he said obligingly, backing away with a slight bow and arms spread.

Honestly, he was somewhat annoyed with all of the side routes this visit was taking, but at least her absence would give him an opportunity to examine his current locale in finer detail.

The inside of the dwelling was just as grand as the outside and had a strange feeling of openness, despite it's being dim. The light brown stair cases swirled off to the left and right of the entrance. The walls were covered with tall panels of wood that matched the stairs and, in certain places, windows taking up the larger portion of the section. These had curtains of a light, faded red, which now blocked them. There were carpets of rich, but subdued colours and many uncommon articles of furniture. It was clearly not a common Tortugan household. All of the decoration of the place would have cost a good deal of money. Barbossa was left to assume, then, that the girl in the window was either his benefactor's daughter or wife. In either case, she was not a captive, which would explain her relaxed demeanor. It would also make things a lot less awkward were he to encounter her.

Directly on the heels of this conclusion, the woman from the tavern descended the stairs.

"You may go up now," she informed him.

"And which door may I go up to?" he asked.

"It is open," came the simple reply.

He climbed the first few steps only to hear her speak again.

"Only your captain may go up," the woman declared to this followers.

They gave him a look indicating that they were not comfortable with this arrangement. Barbossa merely nodded his head in agreement with the command and turned, mounting the rest of the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Barbossa was rather surprised that there were no open doors on the second floor. He had checked every door along the path the floor took and none were even a jar. Turning back, he set off for the top of the staircase. When he reached it, the woman was still standing there with his crew, making sure none tried to disturb the meeting that was supposed to be taking place.

"Madame, I am sorry to take your attention away from your task, but there be no open doors on this floor. Which was it that you intended me to go through?"

She turned and looked down her nose at him. This was a rather amazing thing to manage as she was standing near the bottom of the stairs and he was at the top.

"On the _third_ floor there is an open door. That is the door you are to use," she explained as she would to an asinine young boy.

Rolling his eyes, Hector moved down the corridor climbed the stair case that stood in the middle of it. Of course he had seen the stair case, but he hadn't thought there was any reason to use it. The woman had merely said that he could go up and that a door would be open. There was no specification that he needed to go up to the third floor. To be honest, he was amazed that there was a house that had a foundation and structure that could support two extra stories. It was quite impressive.

The third floor was easily as ornate and lovely as the former two levels, possibly more so. The moldings were incredibly intricate and coated in gold leaf, unlike any of the wall decoration downstairs. There were even inlays in the doors. The level was not the same, grand size as the first tier or even half of that, as the second floor was. It was about one forth of the size of first story. The environment of it, however, was much richer. Approaching the open door, which stood on the right, Barbossa mused on how anyone in this town could afford a house that was so costly. He had seen grand mansions before, but nothing this elaborate in such an area.

He was lucky that the door had been so close to the stairs, as he might have missed it being open otherwise; it was only open a crack. In the time that he took traipsing to the door which, seeing as he didn't have very far to walk, was a span of several seconds, he considered turning on his heel and leaving that instant. Perhaps he couldn't really help him to catch Jack and repossess the map. Perhaps this person was underestimating the other captain, which would make this trip entirely fruitless. Perhaps he was ludicrously expensive to hire. After all, someone had to pay for all of this finery...and perhaps he would never find the Fountain of Youth because he was afraid of injuring his pride by asking for help.

Barbossa stood in front of the ornate door, looking warily at it. Not knowing what to expect can make you that way. He slowly took a deep breath and set his hand just above the handle. Being indecisive is also a symptom of not knowing what to expect. As he took another deep breath, he gripped the handle itself and pushed forward.

Even with the door ajar, the room had a scent that had not crept into the hallway. It was a distinctly feminine aroma; something that seemed composed of lavender and something lighter and sweeter. This worried Hector slightly, really not knowing what to expect at this point, even after having opened the door.

The room was just as ornamented as the rest of the house had been, but it possessed a more intimate quality and it's colours were paler and included more blues and creams than reds and golds. There was a tall book shelf that took up most of the wall to his right. A long, mid-width window with a window seat, padded with powder blue cushions, framed by cream brocade curtains, everything guarded by sheer blue drapery was imprinted in the opposite wall. The bed, which was on the left side of the chamber, was decorated in the same manner as the window and flanked by small tables, all of it located near a desk to the direct left of the door.

His eyes had only grazed the foot of the canopied bed before looking to the rest of the room. Because of this, he had, at first, missed a figure, almost seeming a silhouette, sitting at the head of the mattress. After his gaze returned to the bed, he finally noticed this person and, realizing that it was female, jumped slightly. He held on to the door intending to leave almost immediately, but stepped forward a bit to show his presence better, so as not to scare her.

"Pardon me, miss," he said. "Didn't mean to disturb you. This must be the wrong room."

Hector turned around and began to exit the room.

"It's not."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The voice was that of the woman and it was perfectly calm and level headed. Barbossa turned back around so fast that he nearly broke his spine. She hadn't even moved from her place on the bed.

"Pardon, missy? I don't suppose you could repeat that again?" he asked, as if speaking to a child.

Confidently and smoothly, she stood and walked past the bed, turning to face him. With mild surprise and great interest, he noted that she was the girl he had seen in the window earlier. She, too, spoke as if to a little one.

"I said that it's not the wrong room. You are in precisely the right place."

"So, you've been sent to tell me that your father will be here soon," he replied.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, clearly offended. "I am fully four and twenty years of age!"

"Beg pardon, madam. Then, you must be here to greet me on behalf of your husband," he said, giving her a bow.

"No!" she said, beginning to pace. "Must every man I meet be a complete simpleton?"

Barbossa frowned at this and released the door handle that he had been holding on to through this exchange. He paced further into the room.

"A 'simpleton', lass? Have you ever encountered any real ones?" he asked skeptically.

"Did I not, just now, imply that?"

"Certainly, you implied it, but I'm afraid that you are either lying or mislead," he said, walking closer to her.

"Oh, of course!" she said sarcastically. "And why would that be?"

Hector had reached a spot directly in front of her that he had moved to with the express purpose of intimidation. As he towered over, he leant down, his face several inches from hers and harshly said, "Because I am not one."

Despite his being so close to her and his threatening statement, she held her ground, not even flinching. Barbossa turned his back and headed to the door.

"You clearly don't know how to make a good impression," she called after him.

"Neither do you, your majesty. I'm sure you think of yourself as perfect, however, so I'll leave before I hurt your feelings."

"Perfection is impossible and if you weren't a simpleton, you wouldn't assume such a thing," she smiled.

Barbossa paused, his face curious.

"Have I proven my point?"

He turned slowly, wearing a satisfied grin. "I still deny your accusation, miss, but I can appreciate intelligence when I come across it."

"And though I still don't respect you, I am glad that you aren't a complete pig," she said, moving to her desk.

She sat down, pulling out a quill and an inkwell, and began writing on a piece of parchment already sitting on the table's surface. Barbossa, feeling rather out of place now that no attention was being given to him (not to mention, that he was in a woman's bedroom to conduct actual business), paced into the room, aiming for the window seat. As he reached it, he heard a click behind him. He turned to see that the girl had shut the door without taking her eyes off of her task. Somewhat satisfied that this meant they would be negotiating soon, he grasped the edge of a curtain and pulled it back to view the street below. His mind, however, was not settled.

"I don't suppose you could tell me your name?" he asked curiously.

"Victoria Sash, though I am sometimes called Victoire."

"That would explain the French woman who brought me here," Hector replied, recalling the rather unpleasant woman downstairs.

"Yes."

"And 'Sash'? Don't suppose you got that from Edward Teach, did you?"

"I did. Not directly; I stole it, if you will, but it being his alias is the reason I took it," she explained.

"To intimidate?"

"To disguise."

Hector turned his head to her. This was interesting. Releasing the curtain, he walked back towards her.

"To disguise what, may I ask?" he leered down at her.

"No, you may not," she reprimanded, turning to him with an offended look. "Now then, do you want to get down to business or not?"

Barbossa nodded and added, "I've been waiting for you, Miss Sash."

Victoria stood, moved to a space to the left of her bed and started pulling out a table that Hector hadn't noticed before. It was a rich chestnut brown, as all wooden furniture in the chamber was, and had gold inlay in the top with feet in a traditional claw shape. When it was out, it was placed in the centre of the room and closely followed by two fine quality chairs of similar design, both having padding on the arms, back, and seat of a light blue matching the rest of the room. Finally, she transferred her inkwell, quill, and parchment to the table and sat down. "May I sit, Madamoiselle?" asked Barbossa, feigning courtesy.

"Don't patronize me. We both know that you don't care if I want you to sit or not," she said.

Pleased that the pretentious act need no longer be continued, he pulled the chair in front of him out and sat, crossing his ankle on top of his opposite knee and slouching slightly. Victoria sat with excellent posture, her legs properly together and touching the floor, and her neck extended to look at her work, rather than her back bent over. She was clearly from a well to do family. No common barmaid or courtesan could ever hope to reach the level of refinement that she had. It was something that was obviously learned from birth. There wasn't the pretty, natural grace that a young girl of any class tends to have. Rather, it was cold or, in other words, more suited to the type of person Miss Sash was. After about five more minutes of silence, she inspecting her writing and he tapping his fingers against the arms of his chair, she addressed him.

"So, you are trying to catch Captain Jack Sparrow," she stated rather than asked.

"Jack doesn't deserve the title of Captain," Hector sneered.

"I'll not hear ill of any pirate from you while we are conducting business," she snapped. "Now, you are going after Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Aye," Barbossa sighed, slumping in his chair.

"Do you have any idea at all as to where he is?" she asked calmly.

"No. I came to you to find him. By now, he could be anywhere," he answered, exasperated by his situation which, up until now, he had forgotten. "Do you know what his mode of transportation is?"

"Last I heard of him, a dinghy."

Victoria scribbled on her parchment. This sparked Hector's interest.

"Don't you find it strange that he outran me in a dinghy?" he asked, leaning an elbow on the table.

"No, I don't. I am perfectly aware of Captain Sparrow's abilities."

"Then you know how to catch him?"

She ceased her writing and set her quill down.

"I know how to go about catching him. Whether my methods for doing that will actually work remains to be seen."

Hector nodded.

"Was there anyone with him when he left?"

"A man named Joshamee Gibbs."

"Would he have gathered anyone else along the way?"

"He couldn't fit anyone else in that boat," he scoffed.

"Is there any other information I should know about his situation?"

The charts and the Fountain of Youth briefly crossed his mind but he quickly suppressed it.

"Nothing that I'm aware of."

The room filled with silence. Tapping the feather of her pen against her lips, Victoria seemed to contemplate her notes. She stood up placing the objects on the table and began pacing. Her gait, as her posture, was coldly elegant. Her strides were small and even, the only part of her body not aligned being her head. She had, Hector thought, the potential to be quite attractive.

'A pity that she couldn't have been rebellious.'

"There isn't much information to follow," she muttered.

"Does that mean you can't find him?" he asked.

"No. I can still find him. It will cost you more."

Taking in, for the umpteenth time, the thoroughly rich and luxurious surroundings, Barbossa began to question, also for the umpteenth time, whether going after someone to help him was a good idea.

"Begging your pardon, Madamoiselle, but I doubt that's necessary. Surely you haven't failed to notice the condition of your estate?" he said, rising from his chair skeptically.

"What about it?" she asked, unsure whether to be offended or not.

"It's full of magnificent furniture, detail, and drapery. More money wouldn't be necessary for you and it would be better for me if I could keep most of my purse intact."

Another silence oozed through the walls.

"It will cost you more," she said, ending the exchange.

Barbossa groaned, "How much more?"

"I don't discuss prices out loud," she informed him, moving back to the table and taking the pen back in hand.

Quickly, she tore a scrap off of the parchment she'd been inscribing. After jotting down a few numbers, she handed Hector the paper.

"45 guineas! Are you insane?" Barbossa asked, incredulous.

"No," she replied, perfectly level headed. "That is my price. Take it or leave it; I'm not much affected either way."

She turned away from him towards the window, arms folded. Hector looked at her, then at the paper he held in his hand. His mind was flying. It brimmed with thoughts, all but spilling over. Her services were dramatically over priced. That was over a month's winnings, for God's sake! But he hadn't been able to catch Jack. Every time he had tried he was out manoeuvered, out thought, and out of luck. There was very little he could do at this point but accept the price. It would hurt his pocket book but he did have savings he could pull from.

'Hopefully, I'll still have some left over for a more than comfortable retirement,' he thought grudgingly.

"Alright, lass. I'll pay for your help."

"Good. We can start tomorrow. You may stay in my house if you would like," she said, gathering her things and putting the room back as it was.

"Oh, are you taking a shine to me, dear?" he asked with a grin, taking the table she was trying to move from her.

"Absolutely not! Who on God's green Earth would be attracted to you?" she exclaimed.

Hector had moved the table back to it's place and set his hand over his heart, "Now, that hurt, missy, it really did."

"Just leave!" she shouted, pointing to the door.

"Of course. I wouldn't dream of disobeying you, Madamoiselle Sash," he answered, backing out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Once he was out and the barrier was fixed, he leaned against it and folded his arms. This was either going to be the most entertaining or the most frustrating experience of his entire life.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The sight downstairs was somewhat strange, when Hector reached it. The French woman was standing commandingly at the end of the bannister, her posture straight and her arms crossed. His crew, who earlier were wary about not being able to follow their captain upstairs, were now either sitting or laying on the floor, quite relaxed, Pintel even in the fetal position asleep. If this was not his crew then he would scoff, possibly even laugh. However, this was his crew and they were essentially "sleeping on the job".

"Wake up, you scurvy bilge rats!" he shouted, after moving down the staircase.

All of the men jumped up and to attention immediately. They were clearly not prepared for their captain to interrupt their rest. As he stalked up and down in front of them, they each backed away about a half step. Upon coming level with their temporary "attendant", he turned to her.

"Your mistress has courteously given us permission to stay the night."

The woman, raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Could you, perhaps, take us to our rooms?" he asked.

"Excuse me for a moment, monsieur," she returned and ascended the stairs.

Apparently, his word wasn't good enough. Barbossa had deduced this because he was willing to bet that she was going to check with "Madamoiselle Sash" to see if this was true. Hopefully, the ending of his last conversation with her would not have an effect on her hospitality. Obviously, if she decided that she no longer wanted to put he and his crew up, it wouldn't affect him too much. They would simply inform her of where they were going to stay and go there. They would see her upon her arrival in the morning and then they would be off to catch Sparrow. Perhaps it would even work out better than staying with his benefactor; she would most likely not be willing to oblige him in certain capacities. Honestly, Hector thought that was a shame. After all, she was a pretty when it came down to it. He wouldn't mind her. He might even enjoy her, actually. However, it wasn't so much of a need that she would drive him out of his mind.

'Still, she was fiery and that is the best breed of girl-'

"Monsieur."

The French woman's voice, once again interrupted his musings.

"My mistress, has agreed to let you stay the night. She said that you may stay on the third floor. Your men..." she trailed off, turning her nose up at them. "...may stay in the servants quarters."

A collective groan issued from the raggedy group before they were silenced by a glare from their captain.

"You'll stay where you're told to stay. Cotton!" he shouted, calling the mute man forward. "Go back to the Pearl; tell the rest of the crew of our arrangements. Then keep lookout."

The man nodded and with a squawk from his parrot, he turned about and headed for the door, the apparent house keeper following to close it behind him. Cotton was a strange man. He was most assuredly loyal to Jack and though any captain may lose the loyalty of his crew with ill commanding and management, this was not the case for him. But despite his alliances, when Barbossa gave the man an order, he obeyed without question, better even than those like Pintel and Ragetti who followed Hector.

When the door had been shut behind Cotton, the woman came back and instructed the crewmen to follow her to their short-term quarters and Barbossa to go to the floor that he had too previously left. She told him that the "Madame" would show him to his room. He very nearly made a crude joke about the title "madame" but thought it best if he was as polite as possible (at least until he had made himself comfortable in his room, at which point it would be rude to turn him out, as a girl of her stature would know).

Before he had reached the top step, Hector felt a presence and not a particularly welcome one at that. Victoria was standing with one hip pushed to the side, the opposite hand resting on the bannister. Despite her breeding, she had apparently decided to forgo modesty and wear her dressing gown rather than her earlier, more acceptable clothes. At this, he raised one eyebrow and lifted his eyes to her face which looked as if she was trying to control her vexation. Barbossa, after seeing this expression, took on a tired and slightly annoyed countenance. This was not only because he was not being shown to his room, as he had hoped, but also because it seemed that she was playing a tease. A long silence ensued, neither of them willing to break it and share their thoughts.

"So," Victoria said, finally breaching the quiet. "You saw fit to disturb my rest, did you? I suppose that's because you aren't satisfied with something. Do tell me what the problem is."

She was still trying to maintain her composure, though her true emotions were quite clear. Still, it was better that there wasn't any shrieking or loud protesting.

"On the contrary; I have no complaints. My men may not like their current quarters but they've had worse. You were disturbed by your house maid."

"On your behalf, however, did she come and therefore I should like to place the blame on you."

"Oh, I understand your tendency to place the blame in the incorrect place to benefit your dislike of me but I simply told her that you had offered to house us for the night."

"And she made up her mind to come up here without any real problem, of her own free will and demand that I leave my bed to lead you to your room without enough time even for me to dress properly? That is highly doubtful. She has never been so rude as she has been this evening and the only difference is you. So, tell me, _Captain_, who would you figure caused all of this?"

"Different perspectives lead to different conclusions, _Madamoiselle_," he shot back at her. "And now I'd like to relax. I've had a long day and it looks as if you have, too. If you'd be so kind as to show me to my chamber for the night, I would gladly leave you be as you so desperately want."

She was speechless for a moment but recovered quickly and moved straight to a room next to hers. Opening the door and tossing the key onto a dresser, she turned around and marched out as Hector marched in. When their paths met directly in the door frame, he grasped the edge of her sleeve and engaged her eyes.

"You know, if I wasn't so sure of your detest for me, I would almost say that you'd made a point of presenting my room in your dressing gown," he smirked.

"Well, isn't it wonderful-" here she pulled her sleeve from his hand. "-that you understand the nature of my thoughts concerning your person."

"Then you are trying to attract me," Hector laughed.

Victoria's eyes drew wide open then returned to their previous state. She drew her arm back and Barbossa prepared himself for a slap but, to his surprise, she hit him squarely in the jaw with her fist. It was not a solid enough blow to do any real damage but it hurt far more than an open palmed hand would have. By the time he had recovered, she was closing her door with a slam.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

On actually observing the room he was staying in, Barbossa found it very well decorated. It was similar to the one his hostess occupied but in richer, darker blues. The curtains, blankets, and the larger cloth accents of it were royal blue with navy accents. The wooden furniture was a dark mahogany and the details on them were gold. When he lay on the bed, he discovered that it was extremely soft. It was apparent that the lady of the house appreciated feather beds and pillows because Hector's head and body sunk down neatly about an inch into it.

While most would find the down mattress exceedingly comfortable, Barbossa, who was used to sleeping on rather harder surfaces (having slept on his once fluffy and well stuffed bed, now worn down, for over ten years), had some difficulty getting to sleep. After an hour of attempting and failing to nod off, he rose and began pacing the room. Thankfully, there was plenty of space to walk about in and many small features of the chamber to examine as he went.

Despite the too comfortable bed, Hector was a bit surprised that he couldn't sleep. Since rejoining the mortal living population, he had found that he was more easily exhausted than he remembered. This was becoming increasingly annoying especially since he was already peeved by his Sparrow situation. And though this hadn't stopped him from staying up late, pouring over charts and making plans of attack (as any proper captain should), he found it necessary to go to sleep earlier than he wanted in order to wake at dawn somewhat well rested. He wasn't really sure whether it was not being able to sleep for ten years or that he was simply not used to it. With all of this, however, he still could not sleep tonight.

Becoming tired of his surroundings, he grasped the doorknob and opened it to what he assumed would be the hallway. He had assumed incorrectly. Apparently, he had been so lost in his thoughts that he had noted neither that there two doors in the room nor the difference in the placing of them. Standing on the threshold of this new portal, he could perceive that the space in front of him was a large closet. That being said, there was very little in it. A few elaborate dresses that were a bit out of style, some extra cushions and blankets on a shelf in a corner, and several baskets and boxes sitting on the floor.

Barbossa took some steps in and, deciding that the closet held no interest for him, turned to reenter his room. He stopped when he saw a small stool with a velvet cover standing by the door. On top of this sat a stack of letters, wrapped in burgundy cloth and bound with gold twine.

"No expense spared," he said, grinning at the girl's proclivity to opulence.

He plucked it up, untied the string, removing the fabric cover to see the top page, on which was written a note:

_5 June_

_My dear Victoria,_

_ I would not normally relate any bad news that I have this early in my letters to you but it is important that you hear this, in a manner of speaking, as soon as possible. I have privileged information that the infamous French pirate, Captain Chevalle, is sailing the waters that you will soon be traveling directly through. Normally I would not relay this information to anyone without express permission but I must warn you so that you are prepared. You know how to defend yourself if it comes to that but I hope sincerely that it won't. My greatest concern at this moment is for your safety on this journey. It seems that I will no longer be able to meet you in Kingston, but it cannot be helped, as the reason for this missed meeting is connected to the main matter of this letter. I hope that this message finds you in good health and that you will remain so throughout your trip. _

_ Sincerely,_

_ Henry_

Hector frowned. Who was Henry? Perhaps her lover. Or ex-lover. There didn't seem to be any other reason that he would break rules to give information like that unless it was to keep his beau safe. Especially since it seemed that he was in the Navy; an unauthorized release of information would not go unpunished. And it was addressed to "my dear Victoria". Were the rest of these love letters, then?

As intriguing as the prospect of reading about Miss Sash's past affairs was, there was some planning to do and the mention of a fellow pirate lord had reminded him of that. Besides, why would he be interested in some tale of romance? That sort of thing was for the fairer sex and certainly not men of his calibre. He retired to the bed to consider all of his options in comfort.

Hector had taken the first steps toward finding Jack Sparrow but had not told Victoria why. If he was to continue to keep his secrets to himself, he would need a strategy to keep that information from her. He wasn't like the "clever" Jack. He could not and would not develop a scheme as he went. The best stratagems were plotted, not made up along the way. Though this theory had failed him several times before, Barbossa stuck to it. His logic had been based on it for most of his career so it was not easily lost.

Normally, he would not have worried about his motives being revealed. Normally, he didn't work with sharp young women. Victoria was not a simpleton (as she had incorrectly called him) and sooner or later she would probably ask and he would say...well, he hadn't figured that out yet. It didn't seem that she was that , come to think of it, was rather strange. Very few people would embark on such a journey without knowing all of the details. He had only told her several facts and certainly not everything she really should know. After all, if Jack was going to search for the fountain, and he was, they could be going to the ends of the earth and back...again.

At that moment, Barbossa heard muffled footsteps in the hallway. He pulled out a pocket watch that he had recently stolen from the well-to-do captain of a thoroughly stuffed merchant vessel. This was one of the scant benefits of not having the map; he and his crew had been able to get some actual pirating in.

He had wasted a lot of time and it was now well past midnight. In most of Tortuga, households being up this late was commonplace. In this quieter section of the city and in this house it was not. As far as he was aware, everyone had retired much earlier in the evening. That raised an intriguing question: who was up and prowling around in the corridor?

There seemed to be so many rooms that it could be someone that he hadn't met or seen. Several other people could live in this mansion without his having seen them, so it was a possibility.

Another noise, the creak of floorboards this time.

Barbossa rose from his recumbent position, gripping the handle of his flintlock pistol, and stepped towards the door. His other hand reached out and grasped the handle, turning it slowly and then flung the door open. Standing behind the door was nothing. There wasn't a soul there.

He stepped out, pulling out his gun in the process, his eyes sweeping the dark space in front of him. Just before he was about to turn about and return to his bed, a hand reached out and harshly shoved him. Shortly after slamming into the ground, he turned over to see who had taken advantage of his guard being down. It was only by the bit of light that was filtering out of his room that he was able to make out the figure of his hostess kneeling next to him.

"Why were you sneaking around in my corridor?" she asked.

"If I wanted to steal from you, I would have done it by force and I'd have you in my bed by now," he replied with a slight grin.

"What?" she drew back completely shocked.

"You're a reasonably attractive girl; you should know that a man wouldn't just let you alone. Especially not a pirate," he winked.

She opened and shut her mouth several times before finally uttering, "Y-you wouldn't have been able to do all of that anyway!"

"Again, you underestimate me, missy. That be not a wise thing to do," he said, sitting up and stroking her cheek.

She instantly jerked away, causing Hector to chuckle. The way to intimidate this girl was not to be angry or commanding towards her; it was to be suggestive. Victoria was frozen in her pulled back position, relying on her right hand for support. Golden light from the guest chamber showed how upset she was: her face was contorted, her nose scrunched, brow furrowed, and lips curled in displeasure. Barbossa observed her face with some disappointment. It wasn't so much that she didn't appreciate his advances but that her features in their current expression and in the current light, looked somewhat grotesque, almost macabre. It was a brilliant defense.

"If there's nothing else, missy, I'd like to return to my room," Hector said, ready to give up his wooing for the moment.

"Ehm...yes," she said, quickly and fluidly rising.

She took swift strides to her door and had it open when he stopped her with a question.

"Any particular reason that you were out of your bed this late?"

"I was going to get a drink," she replied, having regained her haughty air, and closed her door sharply.

Barbossa rose and returned to his bed, this time to sleep. He would need all of the energy he could muster for the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Apologies for the extremely long break. My life has gotten pretty busy so I will be posting less frequently in general but I will be less flaky than I have been. I am also making a commitment to better writing quality. The following chapters may be written slightly differently and the characters a tad altered but I am not veering off plot with this (how can I? I'm making it up as I go along!). Enjoy!

Chapter Seven

Hector woke, as he was accustomed to, at sunrise. The heavy curtains had blocked out the faint, early morning light but the darkness did not effect his internal clock. Outlines of furniture and the shape of the room came into focus as he opened his eyes. Sitting up, he reached for his shirt which had been discarded before. His thoughts bashed against the sides of his head. An incessant chatter filled his mind, all of it relating to the happenings of the day. Of course, he wasn't sure what exactly would happen, thus the ramblings continued.

When it came to opening the door, he was very careful. He did not want a repeat of last night. In fact, he could do well without seeing Victoria a while longer. If he was sure of anything it was this: he was not going to have a relaxing day. If his morning, at least, could be calm, he would appreciate it.

Luckily, there was no one in sight. Every door on the third floor was closed and there wasn't a sound. Closing his door behind him, he paced through the corridor, pausing at one end to open a curtain. The window behind it showed a spectacular view. The third story of the house was positioned in just the right place and was just tall enough to view the harbour down the main street of Tortuga. The masts of the ships docked there were dark fingers against the gold and pink sky. The sun was not out completely yet but it gave everything around it a deep shadow, making them seem dusty black in comparison.

After a moment or two of taking in the sunrise, he proceeded downstairs. He didn't expect anyone in the house to be awake, especially not his men. They could sleep until noon if undisturbed.

True to his prediction, no one was stirring when he reached the ground floor. He saw this as an opportunity to search Victoria's house. Any information he could gather on her before they set off in search of Jack would be crucial. The more he could learn, the more of an advantage he had and he intended to have the upper hand, if not always, then at least most of the time.

The first place he went was to the store room, which took some time to locate but was not too difficult to find. After all, it had to be on the lowest floor in the house, as it was in every household. Barbossa had learned, over the years, that you could tell a lot about a person by what food they kept in their home, so this trip had a dual motivation. First, he would gain more knowledge about Victoria and second, he would find something to eat.

Luckily, he found apples (a large barrel of them, in fact). Honestly, he didn't need much more for his morning meal than that. He had always been a light eater when it came to breakfast. However, the temptation of bread and, apparently, fresh butter was enough for him to coax him into a fuller belly. The cheese he skipped knowing that it was not good for him to start a day of work being too full.

Despite her lavish surroundings, Barbossa had noted a simplicity in what she kept in her food stores. There was the bread, butter, and apples that he had partaken of along with the cheese he had avoided and cream, some dried and cured meats, and quite a large selection of fruit and vegetables. The latter was the most extravagant of all of her stores. Of course, Hector was not sure if there wasn't a supply of sweets somewhere in Victoria's chambers. It wouldn't be surprising; many young women had a love for cakes and chocolates and wealthy ladies could afford to keep a private stash.

He continued his search in other rooms, on other floors, but didn't discover much else. Finally, he returned to the third floor, taking care to be quiet, so he could put on the rest of his clothing. He went back to his room and, after dressing, rifled through the package of letters that he had found last night. Each one of them included information that would not be shared by the average member of the Royal Navy. The young man who was writing to Victoria clearly cared about her and was higher ranked than most. Unfortunately, there were no letters dated after 5 June; it appeared that Henry had been captured and killed by Chevalle. Barbossa was not surprised in the least. Chevalle could be vicious, especially towards the English (a Royal Navy ship would have been a target for him, more than anything).

'Poor girl,' thought Barbossa. 'Naturally, she'd be cold to men after that.'

At that point, he heard movement outside his door. He put the letters back exactly how and where he had found them, filing away the information he'd extracted from them for future reference. When he exited the room he was greeted not by Victoria, but her house keeper who had a tired and annoyed look on her face.

"The Madamoiselle wants you downstairs," she announced.

"So she's finally admitted it," he chuckled, strolling past her, back the way she came.

The older woman looked extremely vexed by this comment but followed the captain down the two flights of stairs to the entrance hall, where Victoria was quite vexed herself, by the looks of it.

"Finally!" she said, exasperated. "I have been single handedly waking up your entire crew. They are completely undisciplined. Two of them tried to grope me!"

"I can assure you, they run my ship well. You'll not have issue with them again," he replied with a charming smile.

"I certainly hope not."

"Shall we move out then, miss?"

"As soon as you get your bunch of oafs in here, we will."

"Very well," he replied in a calm manner. "Get out here, you feckless pack of ingrates!"

Victoria was extremely startled and nearly fell over by the change in tone. It was effective, though, and within seconds the missing pirates were standing in the hall at attention, alarmed looks on their faces.

"Move out, gents," Barbossa ordered.

They did as they were told and marched out of the double doors at a smart pace. Victoria stepped out behind them and Hector fell in next to her.

"Don't worry, missy, my bark is worse than my bite," he assured her, seeing that she was still shaken. "My bite is actually quite enjoyable."

She turned to see him leering at her, too close for comfort and gave him a frightened look, thinly veiled by disgust. As she marched ahead of him, he watched her, knowing that he was breaking through her wall. She wouldn't have secrets from him for much longer.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The first day of sailing wasn't bad. Hector had been put in charge of the ship, which made everything much more pleasant. Shooting his competitors might have put a damper on the excitement of getting out onto open waters again. They had bartered the ship from a Scottish man with a hangover. That they obtained the ship for so little was probably, in part, due to that fact. Victoria had made no attempt to be captain. She had merely told him that she was first mate and disappeared into the aft cabin. She had made no appearance since then, a fact that wasn't worrying Barbossa too much. He was satisfied with standing behind the helm of the ship, guiding it to their destination.

Though he wasn't entirely sure where that was. Miss Sash had only mentioned a direction, not the final stop. He would have to discuss that with her. It wasn't proper for the first mate to know this information and the captain to have no idea of it. That was a sure way of getting mutinied (he knew from experience). What was she doing in the cabin, anyway?

"Pintel, Ragetti!" Hector yelled.

The two men rushed over and saluted him awkwardly to which he rolled his eyes.

"Take the helm."

They looked at each other, confused.

"Which one of us, Cap'n?" Pintel asked.

"The both of you! Do you think I'd trust just one of you fools to steer the ship?" Hector returned leaving them to their task.

He could hear them whispering as he left.

"Why's he leaving this to us?" Ragetti asked.

"You know why..." Pintel answered with a meaningful look.

Ah, well** that** might be why she was in the cabin all morning. After all, two of his men had tried to cop a feel on her earlier and no doubt one of them was Pintel. Ragetti was a bit of a sensitive type. He wouldn't have been the other. Perhaps one of the new recruits. They had too previously been in the Navy, which was much more regulated and were still getting used to their freedom. They may have been a tad to eager and taken liberties when they shouldn't have. They seemed intelligent, however, and would most likely discover that a bit more discretion was better with women. Well, most women.

When Hector entered the cabin, he found Victoria pouring over maps that were laid out over a desk near the windows. Apparently they were hers, as they were not there when he had looked the ship over for purchase. She didn't look up even after the door had closed.

"Well, lass," he said.

"Hm?" she answered, not looking up.

"What be on those charts?"

"Our course," she answered simply.

"Ah," he said. "And may I be so presumptuous as to look at the charts myself?"

Finally, she looked turned her head to look at him. She gave him a look that showed her mistrust of him.

"I can't imagine why you would need to."

"Maybe because I'm commanding, running, and steering this ship. A captain should know his destination and how to get there."

"A captain needs to know which direction to sail in and when to stop; I can provide that information when it is necessary."

"And what about beaching the ship for cleaning? Docking to replenish our supplies? There are plenty of reasons that I should be given access to those," he said, advancing on her.

"I could tell you where to stop," she said, recoiling as much as she could while still protecting the maps from his view.

"That's impractical, missy, and I don't run my ship that way. You'd be smart to move; your being in the way won't stop me from getting those charts. In fact, it encourages me," he added with a grin.

"Beg pardon?" she asked, looking tense.

"You know what I meant, Miss Sash, and don't pretend otherwise," he said, as he continued to close the space between them. "As I've told you before, you're an appealing girl."

Victoria's mouth hung open slightly, as if she was about to say something. She couldn't think of anything that would deter him or was worth saying. He was only a couple of inches away from her, his breath brushing thin strands of hair back from her face.

"I'm not afraid to get close to you. In fact, I aim to get closer than I am now," he said pressing his chest into hers and pushing her back against the desk.

"Get off," she breathed.

"Not so tough now, are you?" he laughed. "I had a feeling you were putting on airs. I must compliment you on your acting skills."

"Please leave me alone," she begged.

"All right, lass."

Backing away from her, he swept the charts off the table and rolled them up, tucking them into a pocket in his coat. Victoria looked confusedly from the table to Barbossa, seeming a little worried. He smirked and turned towards the door.


End file.
